


Coffee Canvas

by oyellowbug



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Baristas, Blind George AU, Break Up, Break-up recovery, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Writing practice, artist George, coffee shop AU, conflicting emotions, dream is an emotional mess, regular customers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyellowbug/pseuds/oyellowbug
Summary: Dream’s heart falls tender as he loses her; the face that brought raw joy from deep within. He continues to slave away behind the counter of a sweet coffee shop, attempting to piece himself back together without a heavy word of doubt spilt.From afar, he admires the authentic creativity of the regular visiting customer sitting alone in the corner, accompanied by a singular pencil, sketchbook and sleeping dog at his feet.His first approach opens up an endless path of emotional despair.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Coffee Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea for an AU that I came up with!
> 
> George is a blind artist who sits in the corner of a coffee shop, where a heartbroken Dream works at. So sorry if this comes across as really cheesy and bad, but this is merely just for fun and for writing practices :) 
> 
> I hope you like what I give. Open to constructive criticism, though I’m pretty sure this will go unnoticed aha. 
> 
> I’d also like to say that I have reuploaded this because I’ve made quite a few changes, just to cover up any possible confusion.

The hazy murmur of sunlight emits through clear glass, spilling across soft fabric and freckled skin. Warmth prickles at his closed lids and beckons the stain of slumber away to awaken him from dreamy illusions. His vision adjusts from night to dawn, but just as he becomes used to the gentle radiance, he burrows himself back into the softness of his duvet with a tiresome rasp.

A coat of dark fur brushes against the tip of his nose as he moves, and it vibrates a purr against his face. Subconsciously, his hand shifts from his pillow to Patches twitching ears to greet her with a gentle scratch.

It seems too early for him to wake up now; it’s warm, comforting and the perfect time to doze back off into sleep. Though Dream knew of the consequences of slipping back into blank darkness; once he was awake, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to go back to bed until it greeted him again at later hours. 

He stretches his body out, back arching and toes curling from the release of tension in his muscles, then falls limp against his mattress. The feline snuggling up at his side mimics his actions, curling her tail and arching her small body into a flexible curve.

Dream’s limp hand wipes the remainder of sleep and unusual dry wetness from the corners of his eyes to let his vision adjust on his ceiling. His puffy eyes feel cold as if they were supposed to be wet, but as his fingers rub against them, they remain irritatingly dry.

He pushes the weight of his body up from the cosy melt of his mattress to hang his legs off the edge. For a moment, he had sat there to gather up the urge of going back to bed for another “five minutes” - a fake promise that he usually made to himself every morning that reeked of drowsiness.

As his bare feet slip into fatigue slippers to stride across the room, Patches immediately drops down from the bed to call after him in a soft whine.

“I know,” Dream murmurs sluggishly. He reaches down at his feet to scoop her small body up from the floor. “I’m hungry too.”

He quickly organises his routine, head dwelling in heavy bother;  
  


_Feed the cat.  
_

He cracks open the sealed lid from the tin of cat food to pour it into Patches bowl. She sits beside his feet patiently with yearning eyes, and once the bowl was put down at her level she digs into eating.

_  
Make yourself breakfast._

He sinks lazily into his sofa, dribbles of milk from his bowl of cereal sticking to the far corners of his mouth as he chews.   
  


_Brush teeth._

He gargles cold water, spits out the white bubbling foam coating his mouth and quickly flashes his teeth at himself in the mirror.  
  


_Water the plants._

Fresh wetness greets dry soil at last.  
  


Dream places the half-filled watering can down at his nightstand, becoming distracted by the vast window before him.  
  
He gazes out into the horizon as if baffled by the presence of pure warmth, the gleam of sunbeams, and how the sky settles upon a field of fires, lilacs, seas and wispy whites. Typically, he wakes to the miserable days of grey cloudiness, which he often wonders if it was smoke of pollution or the natural call of sloppy weather.

Seeing the sun is nice for a change, though he does prefer the surprise of rainy days.

His lips curve into a silky smile as a tickle of comfort plays at his breath. Florida is known for hot weather, but it had been a while since the sun greeted him through his large window. These past few days had been scorched of warmth and light. It hadn’t even been raining, which had disappointed Dream the most - every day had indicated that it promised rain, but it remained dry and chilly instead.  
  


“Morning,” Dream said - to nobody in particular but himself. 

  
A vibration captures Dream’s attention. He glances over to his nightstand and catches a light emitting from his phone. If it hadn’t continued vibrating, he could’ve assumed that it was just a notification of a bland tweet posted by friends. But it wasn’t stopping.

He swipes his phone up into one hand, staring at the screen to see who was calling.

Sapnap.

Dream’s brows furrow and he puffs a breath out. God, he isn’t in good enough shape to talk to anybody right now, but receiving a call from Sapnap in the morning must’ve meant something for him.

After building up absent courage, his thumb gently swipes right to accept the call, and he hesitantly presses it up to his ear.

His mouth falls dry of vocalisation. His chapped lips part for the third time, desperate for any structured noise to escape his sore throat. Following a few seconds of silence, he manages to form single wording.

“Hey-” he sucks in a gust of rough air to scratch at the fragile soreness in his throat. “Hey, Sapnap.”

“Dream,” Sapnap promptly seethes. “Where the hell are you, man?”

“In my bedroom?” Dream replies with wary uncertainty, pacing back to the front of his window to watch the traffic below the hue of the rising sun. “Where else would I be at this time?”

He hears inaudible chattering from Sapnap’s end, but as the seconds waver by, it drifts further away. He must’ve been moving into another room to get away from the babbling, but Dream settles onto the curiosity of wondering where Sapnap could’ve been at this time. Sapnap never wakes himself up early by choice, nor ever calls Dream in the mornings just to scowl at him without reason. 

“Sapnap?” Dream tries, fumbling with the nerves inside his chest.

“I dunno, Dream,” Sapnap’s voice returns, and Dream could hear the frustrated strain in his tone more clearly. “Maybe you’d be down here - at the coffee shop - at _work?_ "

Dream’s expression drops to terror - of _course -_ that explained everything.

“Shit,” he curses suddenly, speeding his way over to his wardrobe to tear clothes out. “I forgot-”  
  


“What? You forgot that you have a job?” He hears his coworker scoff. “Come on, dude.”  
  


“I forgot that today was a workday,” Dream says defensively, using his shoulder to support the phone against his ear. “How late?”  
  


“Almost an hour late. I called you five times during that time.”   
  
For a moment, Dream pauses to close his eyes as discomfort tore at his transparent pride. Never had he ever been late to work up until now, after two years of working as a barista. For some reason, it’s embarrassing for him.   
  


“Look, I… I had a hard time sleeping, my alarm didn’t go off-”  
  


“Dream,” Sapnap interrupts him from rambling up excuses. “It’s fine. Just get here quickly, ‘kay? I’m covering for you. Think of an excuse so you can get off easy - say Patches had bad diarrhoea or something.”  
  


“...uh, yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.” Dream utters a shuddering breath as he slips off his creased shirt.  
  


“Whatever - just think of something. Hurry up.”

  
A white shirt and a pair of jeans are thrown onto the bed. With quickening motion, he begins to wriggle off his cheap sweatpants. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you-”

  
The sound of a repetitive beeping steals the words from his tongue. Sapnap had hung up.  
  


“- later,” he finishes.  
  


_Idiot.  
  
_

He waves away the embarrassment chewing up at his chest and drops the device on the duvet of his bed.  
  
That hadn’t been a lie nor an excuse to dismiss his forgetfulness; last night had been rough on him. But reflectance holds no place within time now, because one thing’s for sure; Sapnap can’t cover him forever. Eventually, somebody will notice Dream’s absence behind the counter.

With a newer shirt and a pair of trousers on, he leaves his bedroom to swipe up a coat and shoes.

He struggles to refill Patches plate with food and her bowl with water, and once he finishes he scoops her up to give her a small kiss on the head.  
  
“Behave,” he tells her steadily, before plopping her back down on the cat bed that she rarely ever chooses to sleep on.

With a stumbling start to this sprint, he collides with his apartment door, opens it, and only just manages to lock it after closing it behind him.  
  
  
  


Acid between muscles pulses feverishly as legs oscillate. The sidewalk, dotted with the cast of blurry faces, surrounds itself with strangers who uphold differing desires. Some were in similar situations as Dream; they were running late to work and were picking up the pace in their jog. The only difference is that Dream is running - not jogging or speed walking to prevent lesser embarrassment or stares.  
  
Sweat builds up behind the heat of his clothes and spews from out his skin. He’s so close to arriving.  
  
During the duration of his aching journey, he was cursing at himself for missing the bus that had left him behind - even after he waved for it to wait for him, even though he was so close to reaching the closing doors, it left him behind. _Purposefully,_ or so he was accusing.   
  
Then he skidded to a stop, chest escalating itself up and down to water his lungs.  
  
  
He’s here.  
  
He made it.  
  
  
His sloppy eyes scan upward, catching the sight of a familiar face waving at him.  
  
Sapnap gestures something at him, and Dream only just manages to understand as he begins circling around unoccupied tables to reach the counter.  
  
“Thank Christ,” Sapnap melts into a stressing sigh. “C’mon, get around here, I hung your apron up in the back.”  
  
Dream rounds over to the wooden hatch attached to the side of the counter and allows himself in. His hand reaches up to his face to wipe away beads of sweat, but red within his cheeks and forehead remain.  
  
“You look like shit.”  
  
Dream rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”  
  
“Well, anyway, did you find an excuse or what?” His coworker watches as Dream walks by him.  
  
As soon as Dream reaches the door leading to the back, he makes his way through to find his uniform. Sapnap’s hands reach to take the drained green bag from Dream’s shoulder.  
  
“I called in,” he says breathlessly. “I was just-” he pauses to hand his bag to Sapnap and catch his breath. “ - I was just honest.”  
  
“And they said…?”  
  
“They said that they’d let me off.”  
  
“Phew,” Sapnap puffs, then offers a sheepish chuckle. “Close one, huh?”  
  
Dream only makes a murmured noise beneath warm breaths. He comes to a line of small silver hooks nailed into the creme walls of the so-called staff room, and there he finds his brown apron and hat that had three swirls of coffee steam tattooed into the front.  
  
“Hey,” the steadiness of Sapnap’s tone gives concern. “Are you good?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dream replies with dismissal. His hands struggle to tie the back of his apron.  
  
“Are you sure? I didn’t want to make you later by asking questions on the phone, but you seemed bothered by something.”  
  
“I’m _not -”_ Dream hisses in a harsh breath, but once it itches at the soreness of his throat he recoils his sentence in a softer tone. “I’m not bothered by anything.”  
  
Sapnap watches him struggle with the apron. “Dream…”  
  
Dream hands shift to redo the knot that wasn’t forming. His breaths begin to quiver, and his expression flashes tired exasperation. Veiny hands move to his face to run up and through his hair, which is dampened from his coat of hot sweat.  
  
“ _Dream,_ chill out, let me do it.” His coworker shifts behind him and takes hold of the loose strings of the apron. “Something tells me that you definitely are bothered by something.”  
  
“It’s not anything,” Dream says in a snappy tone.  
  
“Dream, you’re sulking.” The apron is tied in a clamped knot, and Sapnap stands back in his previous spot. “Since when did you get bad at lying?”  
  
Dream glances at him, then grabs hold of his hat to drop it over his head. “I’m not trying to sulk.”   
  
Sapnap presses his lips together. Despite his pushy tone, he’s only worried for Dream.  
  
“C’mon,” he tries, placing a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Tell me what’s up with you. Or you’ll have me worrying over nothing.”  
  
He isn’t given a response immediately. It takes a few moments of silence to encourage Dream to even part his lips, but once they do, his words sound weak with defeat.  
  
“She broke up with me.”  
  
Sapnap’s shoulders slump. “Oh, god, man,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Last night,” Dream continues as he begins to make his way over to the front again. “She texted me, and we called, and… it was over. Just like that. Blocked ‘n’ everything.”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have come in,” Sapnap suggests, catching up by his side.  
  
“Over a breakup?” Dream frowns. “I don’t think I’d get away with that.”  
  
That is a true statement. Though he loved his job as a barista and adored the coffee shop itself, his manager was uptight and strict. Even while he was on the phone explaining why he was late, he was almost convinced that the tone of voice that was used to “discipline his performance” was just another way of yelling at him.  
  
He clicks his tongue as he recalls, but he stops himself from complaining about the incident out loud.  
  
“Anyway,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t matter now.”  
  
Sapnap only manages to nod. He can’t muster up any comforting words, but he had made it clear that he did care, and Dream already knows that. He doesn’t need to hear words to recognise his friend’s attempted comfort.  
  
“I’ll be right here if you need anything. We can go out after this if you want to get your mind off things.”  
  
Dream offers a draining smile. “Thanks,” he says. “But I think being alone is what I need right now.”  
  
“Sure.” Sapnap understands his decision. “Call me if you need anything from me.”  
  
With that, Sapnap splits off from his side as Dream finally reaches the counter. With his best smile and pleasant tone, he greets his first customers with a “Hi, welcome, how are you?”, and takes in a handful of orders.  
  
It was how he met her the first time.  
  
She was a regular customer, who told him that she only ever came for his brewing of expressos. She knew when his breaks were, and Dream only looked forward to them just so he could lean over the counter and speak to her at a nearby table. Eventually, he was out from behind the counter and sitting in front of her with his own brewing of coffee. Then, after a few months of flirtatious conversations and sappy admiration, Dream began seeing her at weekends without his uniform and without the worry of shifts.  
  
It was then when she admitted that her regular visits weren’t motivated by his expressos, but by his charming conversations and comforting presence.  
  
So why - _why_ did she leave him? He couldn’t understand, there was no specific reason other than “you’re too good for me” and “I can’t go through with this”. As understanding as he was with her, he still couldn't help the frustration he possessed.  
  
His eyes keep swaying back and forth from the door as if he’s expecting her to walk through and give him a better explanation.  
  
He follows his footsteps trailing back to last night, unable to help but view what she had first told him. First, It had been the abrupt ding that had dragged him from plans of heavy slumber.  
  
Dream’s head had shifted from out of the duvet, only just managing to squint his eyes open to catch the grazing light emitting from his phone. Without shifting too much, his hand extended to pick up the device from his nightstand with a weak grip.

He knew exactly who had been the source of the sound.

💚

**Are you awake?  
  
**

He smiled at the gentle words on the home screen of his phone, face half-buried into the cold softness of his pillow.

His thumb pressed down on the message notification, dragging it left to have it open and began flexing his fingers over the small keyboard.

**i definitely am now aha :) >**

**what’s keeping u awake at this time? >**

Her speech bubble popped up eagerly. The animated dots kept him waiting for a few minutes, which tugged a frown at his expression once she stopped typing altogether.   
  
  
**whats up? > **

**< A lot of things**

**< Can we call? I need to talk to you about something important.**

Dream sat up in his bed, staring at the grey speech bubble for just a moment until he returned to his sloppy typing.  
  


**is everythisng okay? >**

He winced at his own spelling mistake, but the heaviness of sleep was blinding him from complete sense.  
  


She takes a while to respond.

**< I just need to talk to you about something, Clay.**

**okay but r u okay? >**

**< No, I’m not.**

He didn’t know if he was in trouble or if she just needed to rant to him. He was hoping that this would lean towards ranting, because whatever else was about to happen was raging at his stomach’s nausea.  
  


His thumb swiftly pressed down on the small button at the side of the device to turn it off temporarily, and he was greeted by complete darkness once again.  
  


Silence grasped at his blaring mind and dug into his nerves.  
  


The phone buzzed in his hand once, then twice, and - slowly - he finally rotated the phone back up from his lap.  
  


**Clay,** she whispered in his ear, trickling the warmth of her breath against his lobe.

He felt her slender hands wrap over his throat, catching his breath into a heavy knot as he read over her written words.

  
**I don’t think this is working anymore.** **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try and get the first chapter out as quickly as I can, I hope you're okay waiting! <3


End file.
